


Suadade

by angeloftheark



Series: resident evil au but spnverse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Resident Evil 2 AU, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombie Mutation, fellas is it gay to save a dude from hell and stick with him in a zombie infested city?, mentions of adam, mentions of gore, post-season 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29298009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeloftheark/pseuds/angeloftheark
Summary: The sign welcoming them to Raccoon City passes by them, almost too dark to see under the pitch black darkness, saved from the police headlights. Castiel swallowed, his hands gripping the holster of his gun. His concentrated, narrow azure eyes focused on what looked to be a wreckage of a minivan, flipped on its side.“Prepare yourself, Dean. And be careful. It’s going to be a long night.”--A rewrite of resident evil 2 but with deancas.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: resident evil au but spnverse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151753
Kudos: 5





	1. Ungodly Hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the first chapter of something i kinda wanted to do for a while. i recently got back into spn (unfortunately), and re2 and its remake is on my list of fav games of all time, mostly bc you can put ANYONE in its scenario and it will fit. and i was like huh what would happen if dean went to raccoon city looking for sam and he met an angel that saved his life, and was possibly one of the only ways he could get out alive, in one piece. he's running around this ruined city trying to find his brother, while cas also had business of his own, and they discover something which BOTH of them didn't expect. 
> 
> ill be updating the character list as the more chapters i post. also english isn't my first language so i apologize if there's moments which don't make sense TT~TT. anyways enjoy!

Syracuse, Kansas.

_“Look man, I’m serious okay? I saw this with my own fucking eyes.”_

_“Oh, I believe you buddy, I believe you. Just tell us the story, tell us the story.”_

It was raining hard on a Saturday night, very common when it’s right in the middle of spring season. Usually Kansas around this time was just.. wet.

The truck driver was lucky that he didn’t slip off the road just yet. Any twists and turns and he would be gone. Nobody underestimates a slippery road. Him and his load would be gone.

He needed to be entertained in these long hauls because just how on earth was he gonna focus with nothing? Sure he could just listen to the rain pattering for hours on end, which he’s _been_ doing. So he just tuned in to a radio show when the signal was picking up nearby the city he was going to. Where they talk about crazy stories and the host just laughs it off, or comes up with bullshit conspiracy theories that anybody would tell was fake.

He was on the road from Lawrence, Kansas to a big city west near Colorado called Raccoon City. He figured he would stop by for gas or something, and maybe sleep in for the night. He already got food an hour ago, a cheeseburger, at a Mcdonald’s by the side of the road. It gave him sustenance for just a couple of minutes until he reached the city. 

_“Ok, well it was... Last Friday night and I was walking home from the bar...”_ The guy speaking stumbled over his word while he talked, clearly he was shaken up. “ _This woman started walking towards me. She was staggering, ya know so I figured she was drunk—“_

The radio host started to laugh, stopping him from talking. “ _Woah, woah woah, OK! Tell us, be honest now, how many drinks did you have?”_

_“No- No man, I barely had a buzz on.”_

_“Oh come on!”_ Clearly the radio host didn’t believe him from the jump.

_“No, just listen alright? She got closer and I got a good look at her...”_ He seemed to pause for a second, possibly trying to catch up his words. _“You had to see, her eyes, her nose... H-Her whole face looked like it was rotting!”_

The truck driver tuned in to the last part, finally getting his attention. He took a few bites out of his sandwich.

_“She looked like a corpse— Like a walking corpse man!”_

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Heh. Sounds like my wife.”

_“I’ve never seen anything like it. I-I haven’t been able to sleep since that night!”_ He sounded frantic, so the radio host had to calm him down.

_“Alright buddy, calm down, calm down man. Just ... Hey. You gotta stay strong, OK? Don’t give in to fear out there, right?”_ He attempted to calm him down with minimal effort.

_“Yeah well, you got that right...”_ The guest started to talk fast again, and almost on cue the signal started to wear out. _“If you freeze up around these things— They'll sink their teeth into you- I saw it attack somebody—-“_

The radio gave a harsh shrill, indicating it was out of range. Just when it was getting good.

He was close to the city anyway so maybe the reception would come back. Still, he was known to be very impatient. Usually slamming the radio would make it come back?

He gave it a few whacks, so far nothing. He had to put his sandwich down, and turn the dials to another station that would pick up. Nothing.

The signal out here was _bad_ bad then. He figured he’ll fix it later when he stops for rest.

Rest...

His eyes started to close, almost drifting off to neverland. He’s been on the road for hours and hours on end, he needed a rest. And more food. And water—-

There was a white figure in front of him.

His instinct was to slam the brakes immediately. Only since there was an unfortunate downpour, and the roads were absolutely soaked, his wheels slid on the pavement, the front engine of his truck _collided_ into the white figure, the pressure from the air forcing their body on the engine.

He had to swivel his wheels a bit to cause friction on the ground so he could stop, gravity forcing the figure back and, from where he was sitting, he watched their head slam into the pavement. If he was outside, he would’ve heard a _crack_ from their skull breaking open.

The driver immediately opened the door, his hands coming up to his head in disbelief. Never in his decades of truck driving did he ran into somebody— an animal for sure but never a _human._

Judging from their stature, and the white dress they were wearing, he thought it was a woman. He couldn’t see her face, she was on her stomach with her arms— well _one_ of her intact arms outstretched. She didn’t look like she had shoes.

He watched some of the blood wash away from the pavement from the downpour, but he could tell it was a lot. It kept on pouring from her head, and more from her mangled limbs.

He was sure she was dead. Nobody survives a collision like that.

The driver turned his back, unable to keep looking at what he’d done. His license would be revoked and he’d lose his job. Other truck drivers would be warned to stay away from him. He wouldn’t be able to work, and he’d be sent to prison if they found out—

 _If_ they found out.

He could just roll the body over to the side of the road into a ditch and just move on. Not tell anybody, not even a soul what he’d done. Just keep it buried in his brain that he killed someone, and their body would just be decomposed. Or maybe someone would find them and declare it a hit-and-run if they can’t find the murderer.

_Should_ he tell someone? No, who would he even tell?

“Oh god... What am I gonna do?!”

He was in such despair.... So much that he wasn’t able to see the lady in white rise up on her broken legs and tilt her broken neck from behind.

* * *

;

It was one of those rare days where Dean needed a break. A break from everything really. A couple days ago, Sam and him got off on a hunt in Wichita, killing a couple werewolves snacking on dumb teenagers who went into the woods playing Manhunt. It ended bloody, like most hunts did. They checked into a motel not far from Wichita, and slept. Well, slept for maybe a few hours.

Because Sam got a call from their little brother Adam. Well, half-brother. They both got the same dad (unfortunately). He said he was in Raccoon City, and he needed help investigating a couple cannibalistic cases that maybe Sam and Dean would take interest in. Now Adam wasn’t a hunter— he hated that term. Loathed it even. He was just an “investigator”, meaning he caught wind of weird cases and sent them to any hunters who were interested in taking them. But he still lived a normal life. Going to medical school, still in the process of getting his nursing license. He was living normally, and he didn’t want to engage in any of this hunting shit. Not after he lost his mom to ghouls.

He only got Sam’s number in case he saw some weird shit, and to give him a call. He claimed he was in the “wrong place at the wrong time”, and maybe the boys would wanna hunt whatever cannibal is snacking on these hikers, because he sure as hell won’t.

So Sam went, and left a rather long paper giving a sparknotes review on what Adam told him, on the motel table. He left while Dean was dead asleep. He only woke up to the blaring horn of a truck passing by their roadside motel. He noticed something was off, and when he looked to the side only to not see _Sam,_ he audibly groaned.

This has happened too many times. He wasn’t sure if Sam left to do some weird shit with his mind, or if he was just getting food. He got up, looking for some note or something and found a notebook on the table reading _Missing Hikers found dead in the Arklay Mountain region outside Raccoon City._ In a little sentence under the headline Sam wrote on the hotel notepad: _They were found with their limbs eaten off, the bite marks not resembling an animal, but a human. All found in the woods. Adam sent this. Looking into it now. Call me when you get here._

So Dean went. Obviously he wasn’t gonna let his little brother go off on his own. And Dean hadn’t seen Adam in a hot minute. Maybe he’d stop by his apartment later when he met up with Sam.

He was vibing with whatever the station was playing at the moment, so he forgot to put in a cassette tape of his favorite rock songs. _“Gone, Gone, forget yesterday....”_ He hummed, never taking his eyes off the road. He was thinking how he’d greet Adam, probably invite him to eat burgers somewhere with Sam so he’d explain the case, and then Dean would go off drinking and hit up somebody hot—

He just noticed his gas meter was down. Like _way_ down. _Below_ the E line. And it hit him that he forgot to fill Baby up. _How could he forget? He just crossed a state and a half and he forgot to fill up Baby?_ “Are you fucking kidding me....”

He didn’t wanna risk it. He _hated_ calling the tow truck, and he didn’t have a spare gas canister. He’s gonna have to stop after all. If he kept on driving maybe he’d find a gas station nearby.

Meanwhile he was thinking about what was in those woods near Raccoon City. Couldn't be a werewolf otherwise Sam would’ve included that the heart was missing. Wasn’t a vampire either, because Sam would’ve said they were drained of blood, or the limbs were torn off everywhere. But no, the limbs were still mostly intact, it was just the meat gnawed off. Guts were ripped open as well, so they must’ve had a feast, whatever was out there. Whatever was....

Dean didn’t want to think about it. Just thinking of those gory images triggered him back _there_ , a few months back. He did a damn good job hiding it from Sam, and anybody that asked.

These ... whatever they were, they didn’t even cook them. They just ate them in one spot....

“Talk about starving alright.” He mumbled.

He’d need to read dad’s journal. Maybe when he stops by the gas station he’ll give a quick read.

But wouldn’t Sam have given him something from dad’s journal anyway? He’s read it... how many times? Wouldn’t he give a clue?

The gas station light ahead caught his attention. The station was way closer than he thought. He drove to the side of the post where he could open the fuel door, taking his keys out the engine. He left the car, grabbing the gas pump and was just about to open the door when he noticed something was off.

Usually there would be somebody over here to help him, but since it was in the middle of the night, maybe they were inside. But the lights inside weren’t on. The sign was still on, and the gas post was still operating but there wasn’t anybody inside. Usually they would lock the posts up so you wouldn’t get the pump out if they were closed. But the sign didn’t say 24/7 gas, and it said it’ll close at 2 am.

Dean thought maybe the post had a credit card machine so you could pay for it without going inside. But there wasn’t any. So you had to go inside. But there wasn’t anybody around. Don’t you have to usually pay for gas?

“....Nobody home?“

Dean thought maybe he could just steal a couple gallons and dip before anybody figured it out. But there was a cop car parked right outside next to his vehicle so he didn’t want to risk it. “Fine... I’ll pay, I’ll pay.” He grumbled, putting the gas pump back and headed towards the door. But he noticed something else.

There were giant streaks of blood across the floor heading into the station. Right outside the door. Now it made sense why there was a cop car here. Maybe somebody got into a scuffle. Having a gun by his side was better safe than sorry, which was drilled into his head since Sam was born. He didn’t plan on using it but just in case the cop was acting stupid.

He opened the creaking door, which had a big OPEN sign on the inside. Dean honestly wasn’t expecting the gas station being in absolute shambles though. The aisles were tipped over and snacks were everywhere. It looked as if the station was just looted. Maybe he would take a shit ton of snacks now since there wasn’t anybody around—

A man groaned and Dean cursed under his breath. _Damn, can’t take anything._ He went around the mess of the aisles to find a man of medium stature, clutching the side of his neck. Blood flowed from his neck wound, running down his arms.

“Woah, woah buddy, sit down okay?” Dean guided the man to sit by the door. From getting closer he could see it was bad. Very bad. He couldn’t see if his neck was slit, it was just a giant gaping wound. It honestly disgusted him a little. “Don’t talk, what happened? Where are they?” It was a weird question to ask a man who was bleeding out, where “they” were, but he really didn’t care. The man pointed to the room where they were sitting by, unable to speak obviously.

“Okay... I’ll be back, ok? Just sit tight.” He left the man sitting there, heading into a pitch black room. He took out his flashlight, and from the looks of it was in the back room leading into the storage area. Taking a few steps forward he did not count on the door suddenly shutting behind him. 

“Huh..?” He went to open the door but it was locked tightly. Did the guy he just helped out abandon him in here with whatever attacked him? Wow. Smooth. “Hey man, open the door!” He budged against it, nothing. Maybe there was a separate door where they got restocks, so he wasn’t too worried. But he was worried about whatever the hell made that wound on the guy’s neck.

He tried to flip on the lights, nothing. The power was knocked out from the inside. Dean felt like he was in the middle of a hunt right now, which he did not plan on at all. Otherwise he’d get better equipment. There weren't any windows on the inside so it was just dark, with just his gun and the flashlight to guide him. He heard a scuffle coming from the storage area and carefully opened the door.

A cop and somebody else was wrestling, and the cop was pinning somebody down. He held his gun up— “What the fuck are you doing, dude?!” The cop turned his back and held a hand up, turning his attention away from the person. “Just stay back sir, just stay back—“ And then.

The man he was pinning down wrestled back on top of him, knocking him down to the ground. And took a big _chomp_ out the side of his neck. Fresh blood spilled from the wound, pooling around the floor as the officer laid dying, choking on his own blood. Pieces of his neck hung out from over the jaw of the man. Or .. whatever that thing was.

The thing _looked_ , or at least tried to look with its dead beading eyes. The sunken eyes and the flesh hanging off the man’s cheeks. It smelled horrible, like it’s been decomposing for a few weeks, evident that it’s plastic looking flesh was hanging off his face.

Dean was stunned. And scared. And Dean Winchester was never scared.

Instincts kicked in and he fired at the creature, a single round entering its forehead. It was choking on air for a second, still aware. But another round hit by the same spot put it down for good.

Dean still held the gun up in case it tried to move again. He was still out of it for a second, but the sound of shelves falling outside the storage area brought him back. He needed to get out of here and go find Sam. Maybe these _zombie_ things were responsible for whatever was out there in the Arklay mountains. But he needed to leave. He needed to leave.

He heard shuffling somewhere in the room and growls, hisses, and groans. All sounding human. He was screwed, there were more of these things?! The door outside was locked, so there had to be either a key or another way out. There didn’t look to be any other doors besides the one in front of him which was... locked. And there were more of those things surrounding him, trying to grab him. Too many.

Dean found himself stuck there with these things clawing him, snarling and drooling for his flesh. His gun was by his side, but another zombie was pinning his arm down. He had his back on the desk, and the zombies tried biting into his leather jacket.

There were too fucking much. He didn’t have the strength. He gave a loud cry, shaking his legs and kicking but too many forced him down on the wooden surface.

Would he really fucking die two seconds into a zombie apocalypse? They didn’t start reaching flesh yet— no one of them ripped open the side of his jeans, digging their nails in. _Ah shit that hurt like a fucking bitch—_

He cried again and again, kicking to no avail. _“Shit, Goddammit it, get off me! Let me go!! Let, me, go—!!”_

He swore there were no lights. There were no lights at all. But a seering white light bore into his vision, forcing him to close his eyes. And the sound, _oh god the fucking sound._ It felt like he was in the midst of ten thousand parades, but one word rang in his mind. The word he heard in his dreams, waking up in a freezing, cold sweat. He thought it was gibberish, or he was just going crazy, but it was the _same_ word.

He felt the grip on his body loosen as the zombies staggered back and their flesh singed away. They fell on the ground, fire blazing from their eye sockets as they crumbled to the ground.

The noise faded, taking his hands off his ears. There weren't any bite wounds in him, but there was a nasty scratch mark on his left leg. The zombies in question were reduced to ash.

Other than the rustling outside, it was dead silent. No horrible noise, nothing at all.

“God.... I’m having the time of my fuckin’ life.” Dean groaned, hissing at the pain in his leg. It’ll heal eventually but he needed to clean it first. If he could get his mind to work.

He found a small silver key hung up near a photo of a blonde model on the wall. He grabbed it, muttering a quick _thanks_ to her as he went through the other door. There were more zombies, of course, but he couldn’t be bothered with them right now.

The door opened a bit too quickly when Dean went to open it, because there was somebody else outside. Somebody else that opened it. Dean just got a flash of the guy but mostly his loaded barrel pointed straight at his face. He just heard the words _“Get down!”_ shouted at him and instincts kicked in for him to duck.

The man shot at something behind Dean, a single round in the zombie’s face. Dean could see their skeleton glowing underneath, and the bullet would flaring up as if somebody shot a firework in there. _What kind of gun does that?_ Dean thought. _And who is this guy?_

The man’s blue eyes was what got Dean at first. And the tousled black hair. A flawless silver gun he had by his side with a small wing engraved into it, and the long messy trench coat is what set off a motion in Dean’s head. _This dude’s a hunter isn’t he? He doesn’t look like any hunter I’ve seen._

Dean couldn’t think of any words to properly thank the man. He could barely think straight since he got in this damn gas station. “Uh.. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. Thank me when we get out.” The man’s gruff voice surprised him. He thought he’d get something... smoother. He grabbed Dean’s hand to get him up, and his own rather thin hands went back to aiming at another zombie. Well two, and three—

They couldn’t take them all. There were too many of them.

“Dude my car—“ Dean thought about going back to Baby but she had no gas, so it wasn’t really worth it. But he swore he’ll come back. He’ll come back for her, he wouldn’t abandon her....

“It’s not needed. I’ll break open the police car, let’s go.” The man tried to open the police vehicle. But the cop must’ve left his keys inside. He wasn’t going back inside for some damn keys. 

He bust through the window with his bare fists, unlocking the doors from the inside. “Hold on, what the hell-?!” Dean’s eyes widened at the sheer force of this strange guy. He wouldn’t even dream of breaking a window like that, much less a cop car! And with the dude’s bare fist-

“Let’s go!” The dude clearly wasn’t amused to be giving orders at a time like this. Dean wasted no time in getting in. He got in the front seat, revving up the engine and when the guy sat down and slammed his door shut, he backed up and drove over the curb. He was pretty much speeding, hastily leaving the station behind, with his Baby.

“Not my car....” He really had to leave his Baby behind? With all those disgusting rotting zombies? Not only that but he left dad’s journal behind as well, so whatever the thing that started this is, he’ll just have to brainstorm.

“You’ll come back for it.” The man reloaded his gun with matching silver bullets, his hands skilled with the practice. Dean just remembered he saved his ass, and he didn’t get his name.

“Uh, what’s your name?” He still kept his eyes on the road, paying attention to the sign. “I mean, I would’ve been dinner if you didn’t shoot.. whatever the hell that was.” Silence. The man was touching the engraved wing on his gun. “... Anyway they might be zombies or something. I didn’t think they were real though-“

“Castiel. My name is Castiel.”

_Castiel._ That’s the word he heard back in the storage area when he was getting pinned down by zombies. _Castiel_ , the word in the midst of all those thousand parades of loud trumpets, shrill voices, thin screams. Dean thought he was imagining it, but no... He wasn’t.

“...Castiel?”

He licked his lips, gaze still fixated on the man’s blue eyes. Or even if this was a man. What he heard back there in that storage room, and what he’d seen... That wasn’t a man. No man could do that.

“Yes, Castiel.” This.. the guy turned his full body to Dean. “I’m the one who saved you from those infected creatures. I gripped you right and raised you from perdition.”

_Gripped me tight and raised me from.... perdition?_ First of all what did perdition mean-

Then it hit him. Perdition. Hell. The place he was at before he connected with Sam. The place he wanted to erase from his broken mind so fucking badly but he couldn’t. It was behind his eyelids screaming at him everywhere he went. When he blinked, he could see fire, feel the searing hot chains hanging his body up like he was a piece of meat in a butcher shop.

He never opened up to Sam about hell because he couldn’t. Couldn’t bring himself to remember. But he didn’t need to.

But... he was raised from there. By... whatever this thing was?

“... Who are you?”

Dean Winchester never took his eyes off the road but he had too for this.

“Castiel.” The man had too much patience.

“Yeah, I figured that much. I mean, _what_ are you?” He parked by the side of the road, his hands gripping the holster of his gun.

Castiel’s lips opened once, and he blinked twice. “I’m an Angel of the Lord.”

“...Wow, okay. Nevermind.” He drove off, shaking his head. _Angel?_ No fucking way.

“Is there a problem, Dean?” How did he get his name? He sure as hell didn’t tell him-

“Get the hell outta here, dude. There’s no such thing as angels, or whatever. God? Heaven? There’s no way you people exist-“ He was cut off before he could finish.

“This .. This is your problem, Dean. By now you didn’t think zombie’s existed, but with God, you question?” Castiel’s baby blues seemed to peer into his soul.

“Oh come on dude, don’t give me this missionary shit. Monsters is one thing, angels? And heaven? Two different things. At least monsters will give me answers.” He scoffed, the sign indicating Raccoon City a half mile away passing by them.

Castiel was silent. He went back to staring out the car door, his gaze focusing on nothing. It was a bit tense in the car. Like all the time when Dean acted like a smartass. He was right though.

Dean decided to break that silence. “So where we going? You sticking together with me or am I dropping you off somewhere?”

The “angel” spoke again. “My partner Uriel is in Raccoon City. The last I made contact with him was in the police station.”

He didn’t think angels had partners. “So what, you two cops? And can’t you just fly around with your ... wings if you got em?” 

“We’re not cops, Dean. And no, they don’t work.” He didn’t provide any other explanation, other than ‘it don’t work’. The fuck was that supposed to mean?

“How do your wings just not work? You said you’re an angel, aren’t angels supposed to fly around like those chubby baby ones?” He only saw them around Valentine’s Day, the drawings he meant. He hasn’t hunted down Cupid... yet.

“ _Cherubs,_ Dean, _cherubs._ The newly created ones. And contrary to popular belief, they don’t learn to fly until they’re Fledglings.” He explained in a calm manner.

“Okay, fine.” He rolled his eyes. He almost wanted to ask him another dumb question, really entertained by this ‘angel’s’ knowledge of heaven.

He’s been avoiding the _talk_ all along. But only because he was driving and he needed to keep his head straight. He didn’t want to have another breakdown behind the wheel thinking about his time in Hell again. If this was an angel, he would have the power to raise him up. Which would answer all his questions.

The sign welcoming them to Raccoon City passes by them, almost too dark to see under the pitch black darkness, saved from the police headlights. Castiel swallowed, his hands gripping the holster of his gun. His concentrated, narrow azure eyes focused on what looked to be a wreckage of a minivan, flipped on its side.

“Prepare yourself, Dean. And be careful. It’s going to be a long night.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're on twitter hit me up on @hongclipse


	2. Up All Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For in the wake of disease comes famine and then war, with death as reaper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are usually coming a week at a time, since my writing is usually a "spur of the moment" type of thing. I hope ya'll are doing okay!! ^_^. drink some water and get some rest. or if you're reading this on your phone, turn your brightness down, and turn on nightmode on your phone. It helps with your vision.

Dean had been thinking Castiel was joking when he said to prepare. At least, he didn’t think the ‘angel’ would be serious in his attempt to warn him. Boy, was he wrong.

_ “Attention all citizens. Due to the citywide outbreak, you are advised to take shelter at the Raccoon City Police station.”  _ The voice on the intercom outside sounded like a middle aged man, possibly the mayor of the city.  _ “Free food and medical supplies will be provided to anyone in need.” _

“This is... unreal.” Dean shook his head, the car bumping on the road. There was a  _ crack  _ underneath so he guessed it might’ve been somebody, hopefully dead. “How? How could this happen? I mean, isn’t God supposed to stop this from happening?” He sounded so upset, hell, anyone would be in this situation. To be able to do nothing, not even to help people in need. Dean wished he could travel back in time and advise people to evacuate,  _ do something  _ so they wouldn’t turn into these... monsters.

Castiel didn’t answer. He just watched. Watched as the city burned.

He was hoping too much on thinking the city would stay intact. Or at least there would be a single soul,  _ something _ so it wouldn’t look hopeless. But no, there was death and destruction everywhere.

They took the whole  _ city.  _ Everyone was gone.

Dean thought maybe the military would be killing these things, he didn’t expect they’d fall victim to them. Bodies of police officers and their ruined cars forming a barricade on one side of the road, while disused tanks and cars were forced to be stuck in traffic on the other. Bodies of civilians piled the streets, some eager infected having their evening dinner on them, crowding together on a piece of meat like maggots.

The windows to several buildings were broken into, most of them grocery stores, like they were being looted, and honestly Dean could understand. People gotta eat. Who is gonna do a money transaction in a zombie apocalypse? Why would money exist in a time like this?

The smell was awful. He could equate it to trash, or burning flesh combined into one. Fire was everywhere, burning on gasoline from ruined cars on the ground, and cars itself were on fire. Some zombies were in flames themselves, and they didn’t seem to mind.

They passed by the infected in large numbers, watching them stagger around in an undirected pace. They were mindless, not even turning their heads around for the car passing by. If they did notice, they seemed to turn their full body, and hobble forward in a slow pace. They didn’t seem like the running type,  _ thank god. _

_ “  _ God, how am I gonna find Sam in this shit?” Dean talked under his breath. He's watched  _ a lot  _ of zombie movies growing up when Sam was way too young, and he always wondered what he would do in a situation like this. It wasn’t fun like he thought it would be as a kid, shooting zombies, no..... It wasn’t fun. At all.

“I don’t have a reading on your brother, Dean. I don’t sense him anywhere.” Castiel eyed the zombies passing by them as Dean drove ahead.

“What are you, fuckin’ Edward Cullen? I didn’t tell you about Sam, how’d you know that?” Instantly he got defensive over Sam but he couldn’t help it, it’s an older brother thing.

“I know everything. Everything, including your father, your first car, your first hunt, the first man you bought marijuana off of in high school, your.... mother.” The angel seemed to know it was a sensitive topic to Dean, but he just stepped in those waters. He was swimming in ‘em.

“That’s none of your business dude, and quit looking into my head. I mean that.” He was upset. What other things did this guy know about him? That he wore pink panties and enjoyed it? That he accidentally clogged his weed man’s toilet and left without saying anything? Now that he thought about it he was kinda embarrassed. “Can you tell me if he got out?”

“I can’t say for certain, I’m sorry. I can’t sense him here.” But he can sense something. Someone. He felt through all the death and ghastly carnage, somebody alive. Bass-boosted vibrations, pure energy, and a reverberated high-frequency ringing played on loop in Castiel’s ears. It must’ve been silent for Dean, but Cas heard it plain as day.

It was one of his brothers.

Castiel chose to stay quiet. Dean’s got too many things in his head, he didn’t need more angels to add to it. And Dean needed to find Sam, that was more important than anything.

The road was blocked in front of them by a bunch of piled cars, and there were no other roads in sight. Dean wasn’t about to back up just to find another way. The station was right in front of them, it was just covered by the roadblock up ahead.

“Looks like we’re walkin’ from here.” He stopped the car from running. Strangely, there wasn’t any infected clawing at their windows, but there was a handful not far from where they were snacking on a woman, long dead. Castiel looked out his window and found one of the infected turned their head and seemed to stare straight into his soul. Or whatever angels have.

“More like running. I would rather have this vessel safe than be dinner—“ His words were cut off when a loud  _ bang _ came from something hitting Dean’s window. The hunter let out a surprised  _ “Jesus Christ!” _ as one zombie’s short but insanely sharp nails scratched their window. There were two in front of them, crawling on the hood of the car and more on the sides, rocking the car back and forth. 

“Hey, angel, can you do something about these guys?!” Dean tried to back the car up but he wasn’t aware of the stubborn, and surprisingly very resilient infected behind the car, attempting to get in.

The car wouldn’t budge no matter how many times he slammed on the brakes to back up. Before Cas could answer, there were distinct bright headlights advancing towards both of them. From where Dean could make out, it was obviously big and way taller than what they were in. It had to come from a huge truck.

At first Dean thought  _ maybe it’s help _ but no it wasn’t.

He thought it would stop but it didn’t. It kept coming closer and closer, and Dean was sure it wasn’t gonna come to a stop.

“Hey uhh Cas?! Can you—“

He didn’t even have to ask. Two fingers came to rest on his forehead, and he felt like he was levitating. His feet were lifted off in one second, and the next he found himself on solid ground.

Dean found himself standing on one side of the street, out of the car. Castiel was next to him, a hand on his arm to pull him back, away from the street.

The truck that was behind them  _ drilled _ into the police car Dean and Cas were originally in, forcing it to crash into the barricade, and shove the other cars to the side.

It was unnecessary but at least it gave them a clear path to the station. Dean was still processing what happened but Cas tugged on his arm to move. They couldn’t stay here too long.

It mowed the other zombies out of the way but there were still too much, too many outside where they are. Dean was still trying to figure out what kind of zombies these were. It wasn’t the same crazy zombie girl that Sam and him killed a couple years back. The one that still looked about the same, the only difference was her murderous rage towards her former friends. But her appearance didn’t match these, not at all. Her face wasn’t rotting, and she wasn’t drooling everywhere, mindless and numb.... Dean had no idea what these things were.

They made it to the police station in a dash, as Dean barred the door behind him with chairs, desks, poles, anything he could find. The makeshift barricade reached up almost to the height of the door, with Cas levitating desks up to block each other. Nothing could get to them now.

“Cas, I thought you said you couldn’t fly? How’d you manage to get us outta there?” Dean was still aware there could be more zombies inside, considering the mayor said for everyone to take shelter in here. There could be loads of infected in these halls for all they know. But Sam could also be here, helping people. Or Adam in that manner.

“It was only a short distance. Something here in this city is inhibiting me from flying around. I had to use some of my grace, to force my wings to work.” Almost none of this was making sense to Dean, all this angel shit. He still didn’t take him at his word but who else could teleport besides ghosts and demons? Speaking of demons... Dean was stupid enough to leave Ruby’s knife in the Impala, so if there were any demons, he was screwed.

Dean checked out the station, awfully fascinated at how  _ big  _ this place was. Funneling all the city’s funds into the police just so they could show off how big their station was? Instead of spending it on the homeless, or Raccoon City’s schools? And the city  _ still  _ went down like this?

He noticed a laptop left open with programs still running through it behind the front desk, along with a truck that looked to be housing weapons. He opened the trunk, breathing a sigh of relief when he found ammo for his handgun. He scooped it up, stuffing it in his jeans pocket. Boy, he really needed a satchel or something.

Cas stared at the laptop screen, watching the programs run. It was obvious he had no idea what to do. If Sam were here, he would’ve already been at it, trying to find a map of the place.

“I needa find Sam, Cas.” Dean faced the angel who seemed to already know where this conversation was going. “We can’t go outside right now but once we leave this station... I’m finding Sam and booking the hell outta here.” He had to lay out his priorities straight. Sam first, always. Whatever happens, happens. But Sam was first.

“I understand. I can’t keep you here.” Castiel watched Dean try and figure out how the laptop worked. “I have to find my siblings as well. There were so many that came here and I can’t find them...” He promptly shut himself up before he got emotional.

Dean noticed something in his expression when he looked back up. Something lonely. He gulped, knowing too well of that feeling, and the wall Cas built around himself for too long. He was just shit at feelings, but he tried his best to not leave Cas hanging. “They have to turn up sooner or later, okay? It’s a big city, but you angels always stick by each other, right?”

“... Yes.” Castiel avoided eye contact with Dean, messing with the buttons on the sleeve of his trench coat. “We were, but we didn’t count on our powers practically being disabled. I lost them somewhere near the gas station, where I saw you.”

“Right....” Dean thought about their earlier conversation in the car, when he said something about ‘raising him up from perdition’. Since the conversation was still on the feel-sy side, he cleared his throat and spat the question out before it got too awkward. “Hey, Cas, lemme ask you something... Why me?”

Oh he had to ask that question. The one question Cas feared he would ask, and he wouldn’t have an answer. Well he did have an ‘official’ answer, but it’s not the one Dean would like.

“Because you’re chosen, Dean.” He approached him slowly. His hands didn’t know what to do with themselves, so they just rested at his sides. “God chose you for a higher purpose.”

He was waiting for the punchline. “You’re kidding, right?” He has to be joking. Why would God of all people pick Dean Winchester to serve his ‘purpose’? “You’re joking. First of all, God doesn’t exist, and second of all—“

“This is the problem with you, Dean. You have no faith.” This was turning sour. This was going bad, of course he wouldn’t listen.

“ _ ‘Faith’ _ doesn’t put meat in my stomach. ‘ _ Faith’  _ doesn’t help people. I never got anywhere with fucking ‘faith’, it landed me in hell!” He raised his voice without meaning too. He was expecting a flinch from Castiel, something, but nothing. He didn’t get another word.

The angel clenched and unclenched his fist, at a loss for words. He was just a soldier, damn it, he wasn’t Heaven’s defense lawyer. He didn’t have anything to say on Heaven’s behalf, other than what was told of him to say.

Everything was a mess.

It felt like whatever was in this city was making him feel human. He was feeling emotions, and it was scaring him. Angels weren’t supposed to feel. They were just supposed to do as they were told, and not stick by humans when they started to get attached. Castiel couldn’t feel, but he did. And he was sad. Upset. Worried about his brothers. Even though he had no reason too, angels couldn’t get infected with this virus... Could they?

Michael said angels couldn’t get infected, but deep down inside Castiel knew something was wrong. He couldn’t fly in this city, he couldn’t use his powers too much, or he’ll burn out. This mission that he took wasn’t like the other missions with his siblings. Cas felt the security of his siblings close by, and now that he was all alone he felt exposed.

He was supposed to know everything. He was supposed to stay on top of the mission but he was losing his grip. He was having second thoughts.

He stared at nothing, the clacking of the laptop keyboard dulling his mind. But the same vibrations were still there. The steady vibrations of his siblings close by. Well, only one.

Cas felt his feet moving away from Dean, his mind in a separate place. The reverberating bass of the vibrations was coming from a dark nearby hallway.

“I’ll be back.” He didn’t give time for Dean to call him back before he turned the corner and disappeared into the hall.

Dean watched him leave, opening his mouth to call him back and apologize but he was already gone. He clenched the bottom of the desk, breathing out a weary sigh.  _ Dammit Dean, you mess everything up. You can’t even talk to people without blowing up _ . But was it his fault? He wasn’t ready to talk about what happened downstairs, not even to Sam of all people. He still kicked himself for raising his voice when he didn’t need to. If Sam was here he would’ve told him to calm the hell down. 

He punched the desk, relieving a tiny bit of the stress since he got here. He just wanted to leave his hellhole with Sam and never look back. But there had to be about a hundred of those bloodthirsty things outside of the building he was at, and an angel to boot, huh?

He clicked on a file on the homescreen which brought up surveillance cameras. Most of them were down, or the ones that weren’t down were sporting zombies hobbling about, or eating something. But there was one that caught his attention. 

A man caught his attention, firing a couple shots at something off-camera.  _ Not good.  _ He stumbled back, his vision darting at the walls around him before landing on the camera. Dean thought he was speaking directly to him for a second.

_ “Sam! You there? I found a way out!”  _ The officer called to the camera, his hand digging in his side pocket to pull something out. It was a little blue notebook, small enough to fit in Dean’s hand.  _ “It’s in here! Hurry!” _ He shot at a zombie stumbling towards him, entirely missing the head. He pushed it back, running offscreen.

Dean checked the area where the camera was, finding it situated in the East Wing. He needed to find that guy, Dean was 99% sure he was calling out to a ‘Sam’. He knew it was a long shot but his hunches were usually proven right.

“So Sam was here... Knew it.” Sam wasn’t gonna pass up an opportunity to help people,  _ especially  _ when it came to a hunt. He had to pass through here, and leave. But that guy just said he ‘found a way out’, which meant that he was stuck here like Dean and Castiel were. Was Sam still in the station? If so, why didn’t Cas say anything?

He made sure two of his guns were locked and loaded, and packed a couple grenades as well. Cas disappeared somewhere but he’d find his way back to Dean, right? He sure hoped so. He didn’t expect an angel out of all people to help him, in an apocalypse and with... Hell.

* * *

  
  


They needed two radios back and forth with one another. Dean knew he was gonna disappear someplace while Cas was too busy exploring something else and dealing with infected, while Dean got distracted with a magazine or something.

The East Wing was completely flooded with water, coming from someplace. There was a heavy downpour in the city, since he first got here, but rain doesn’t flood a place like this in an hour. It was completely dark too, there were no lights here. The only source of light came from an illuminated vending machine that sold soda. Dean’s best guess was it was completely empty.

He carried his flashlight in one hand while keeping his gun in the other. There were just dead bodies laying around, their blood mixing in with the dirty water. He didn’t really know what to look for, or really where to look since everything was pitch black. He got to a point in the hallway where everything was blocked by shelves and lockers that tumbled over. He considered finding another way, but then he remembered the guy stuck somewhere around here.

He lifted up the lockers, pushing them against the wall. It was just an opening he needed, nothing much. He squeezed between the lockers, stepping over a shelf in the way. He picked up whatever ammo he could find that weren’t wet, storing them in his back pocket. Stepping around in this flooded area was like walking around a swamp, or a pond with just his shoes on. His feet were completely soaked, and he made a mental note to change his socks and air out his boots and when he got outta here. The last thing he wanted in this hellhole was athlete’s foot.

He nearly got bit by a couple of these things when he entered this area. He didn’t use his guns just yet. Dean found it annoying when he shot one and he had to deal with a couple more later who followed the noise. While he was walking around, he noticed a couple wood boards on the ground. They weren’t big but they were thick enough to cover the windows. Conveniently there was a hammer and a box of nails by the ground, as if part of this place was under construction when the virus hit.

He didn’t know what to do with these boards at first but then he saw it. Zombies banging on the windows wanting to come in, their hands bashing on the glass, attempting to break through. Dean didn’t think they were capable of knowing that glass was fragile, but then again these  _ did  _ used to be people. So he got to work, and the less zombies inside the building, the better.

He nailed down some planks covering the bottom, and middle of the window so they wouldn’t just walk right in.

Eventually Dean found out where all this water was coming from. He set foot in a women’s bathroom somewhere down the hall and discovered an overflowing toilet in one of the stalls. Somebody must’ve been working on the tap here and dipped as soon as this thing hit. Dean wasn’t gonna try and fix it, he got better things to do. He did steal a pill bottle lying on the sick though, half empty.

He tried to do this as fast as possible so the guy could still live, but he hasn’t seen him. Or heard him anywhere. Maybe he was already outside? But it couldn’t be, unless he wanted to be somebody’s dinner.

He found a small office area, where he heard bangs against a metal door. Dean thought maybe it was just zombies again but he heard something that he never listened to before since he stepped in this city. With Cas, it was different.

_ “Help! Get me outta here! Open the door!” _

A coherent sentence.

He rushed right into the office, finding out it was something that looked like a garage door. Lifting up the hatch keeping the door down, he tugged up the laminated sliding door, letting an entrance pass through.

_ “HELP ME! PLEASE, HELP ME!” _

A pair of hands slipped through the bottom, Dean grabbing on to one of his wrists. He tried to tug him forward but something got caught on his foot. It was the same officer from before. “Hang in there, okay?!” Dean tried to yank him forward from under the door but it was no use.

Then he noticed the very dirty and very hungry pairs of hands digging their hands right into the officers stomach. The officer screamed for mercy but nothing came. First it was his spleen, then his intestines, then the rest of his organs. All in the awaiting hands of the infected behind the garage door.

From where he was, Dean could see the whole display of gore in front of him. It was nasty, and it was making his stomach clench. He was used to all the gore from the long years of hunting, but it was just something else about  _ zombies. _

The officer laid dead under his arms, but he seemed to hold something in his hand. Dean pried open his bloody fingers to reveal the same small blue book he held up to the camera.

“Oh... cheery.” He just opened it in front of the guy, disrespectful. Dean was lying in his blood and guts and not even bid a farewell.  _ Well at least he’s somebody’s dinner _ .... Don’t say that out loud, Dean.

The book was filled with doodles and not much else. He couldn’t really tell what this was exactly, maybe Cas would know something. Drawings of the angel statue in the main hall, and some others that were bound to be littered around the place. No mention of Sam anywhere.

Dean couldn’t really get enough peace in this place, as he figured out too late. One of the windows burst outside of the office, and it had to be the  _ one  _ window that Dean didn’t have enough boards of. He got up, leaving the one half of the man laying there, the blood still pooling around the place. He got his gun ready, but decided against it. There had to be more of those things outside the window, he didn’t want to attract more.

He bashed the head in of one woman with a pipe he found lying on the floor, pushing her down to the ground. He gave a finishing blow to her skull, leaving what was left of her brain to mix in with the water.  _ Gross. _ He stepped over her body. He made his way down the hall, not anticipating the  _ amount  _ of infected that would soon pile in. That guy’s screaming must’ve attracted them all, and now Dean had to clean up after his mess.

He just knocked behind the knees of some infected, hurling them to the ground. He just needed enough to pass through so he could block them with the lockers in the way. He hastily squeezed past the lockers, rolling his eyes at the garage door he went through suddenly shutting closed.  _ Are you kidding me? Who passed through here?  _ And to boot, the power was dead! He had to find the batteries for this, or some sort of electricity to open the door.

_ Where the hell do you find two bars of batteries in this place?  _ He just had to go back to the office area it seemed. He knew he couldn’t just pass through the locker areas again with just his pipe, so unfortunately he had to use his gun. But if he worked quickly, he wouldn’t be dinner.

It was just like being on a hunt, only ... He was being  _ hunted _ and not being the  _ hunter. _

When he got there, he fired at the two zombies crowding the lockers, all went down with two headshots. The third one was still crawling on the floor. Either Dean busted his knee too hard, or they forgot how to stand up.

He stepped over the one on the ground, heading back to where the officer was chopped up like one of those cold cuts—  _ no Dean, don’t joke about that _ . Well the dude was a cop anyway, so who cares. He dug through the desks, and to his relief there was not one, but  _ two  _ fuses!

Dean thanked whoever was up there that he found these, because he sure as hell was  _ not  _ going to pass through here again. He left the office to find more zombies coming in where the window was left shattered from being broken in, and he audibly groaned. “Ughh, are you kidding me?”

Maybe if he hadn’t used his gun back there, there wouldn’t be more. Well screw it, there was gonna  _ be  _ more anyway, there’s a whole city of ‘em. He shot the one that just climbed out, and made a mental note of shutting this fucking window when he found more boards.

He passed through the locker area,  _ again  _ stepping over the zombie on the ground with the busted knee, and squeezed through the lockers. When he got to the fuse area, he stuck the ones he found in the drawer back in, and a bright neon green light flashed in his face, forcing him to squint his eyes.

“Finally, now too...” He pulled the switch that was by the garage door to leave. “Get outta this dark ass—“ He must’ve jinxed it or something, because as soon as he said that, the switch short circuited, and the door only came up just below his knees.  _ Do I seriously have to lay down on this dirty, bloody floor just to squeeze through... _

As soon as Dean went to bend down, his hearing must’ve gotten worse or something since he got out of hell because he had  _ no  _ fucking idea there was a zombie behind him. Or rather, on the ground like the one he stepped over—

It was the exact one he stepped over.

Even though he had a busted knee, his grip was  _ strong.  _ He pulled Dean to the ground like no problem, and for a split second he thought he was seriously out of shape, so be brought down so easily by a zombie on the ground.

Dean didn’t have time to get his gun because the zombie had one of his arms in an iron grip. Dean smacked his bald head away, yanking his arm out, using his leg to push him farther out into the water. He quickly crawled out from underneath the garage door, audibly cursing at how low it was, but mostly from the infected latching onto his foot.

Harsh bites went to his boot, Dean kicking the everloving shit out of this zombie’s face just to get away. The zombie tore up what was left of his jeans, embarrassingly leaving him with no pants.  _ In an apocalypse?! _

“Aw man, fuck off! Get off my fucking foot!”  _ As if zombie’s listen, Dean.  _ Now the zombie was digging in his leg.  _ “Get off!”  _ He forced his upper body forward, under the door, but he swore there was oil or something under him because no matter  _ how much  _ he tried to crawl away, he was stuck in place. 

_ I am not gonna die here, not in a police station, and not by a fucking zombie of all things.  _ He gave one last kick to his face, sliding his upper body down from under the garage door.

He only got to his stomach before he felt something latch onto his feet, dragging back into the darkness.

“No, not again!  _ No!” _

The bald zombie from before had Dean’s whole leg in his face, opened his jaw, and for a split second he thought he was gonna die. One bite from these things and he was dead.

He’s gonna get dragged back to hell again.

“No, no, no, anything but there!  _ Let me go!”  _ He kicked his leg, but the zombie’s nails were just  _ buried  _ in his flesh.

He wasn’t gonna get out.

_ “God damn it, fuck! Somebody—“ _

It must’ve been fate, God,  _ something divine _ , because whoever— whatever grabbed his shoulders from underneath the garage door and yanked him back into the main hall...

Dean’s vision was blurry from being in the dark for so long, he forgot where he was for a second. He blinked a couple times, still processing everything.

All he heard was a single  _ “Dean!”  _ and  _ “You’re safe now.”  _ before the room closed around him, and everything faded to black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always find me on twit since i never use tumblr, at @hongclipse


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